


where you wanna be

by dzesi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daisy Chaining, Established AtsuHina, Established Iwaoi, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Group Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Partner Swapping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swingers, atsumu is easy, oihina are devious, spoil iwachan 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dzesi/pseuds/dzesi
Summary: Iwaizumi just wants to spend some quality alone time in the Olympic Village with his long-distance love... but Oikawa and Hinata have a better idea.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Iwaizumi Hajime/Miya Atsumu/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96
Collections: Play Ball Zine Collection





	where you wanna be

**Author's Note:**

> it's been an honor and a privilege to work on PBZ with my fellow mods and all our incredible contributors—and i'm super stoked to get to share this fic on ao3 now, too! enjoy <3

“Iwa-chaaaaan,” Tooru is whining already. “I don’t want you to be mad at me! We only have a couple of days together!”

“Tooru…” Hajime sighs. “That is _exactly_ the problem. We only have a few days together, and you honestly wanna spend a night like _that?_ _”_

“...Yes? I thought you would be more into it! It’s been so long since we—”

“With _them?_ _”_

Tooru gets suddenly defensive. “Excuse me? I thought we _adored_ Shouyou-kun! _I_ certainly do, to say the least, and you sure always seemed to enjoy the _stories_ _._ And don’t you act like you never flirt back when Miya-kun hits on you—”

“Like one time! So maybe one time out of every dozen, I throw him a bone, just because it’s the only thing that’ll make him shut up—”

“Well,” Tooru interrupts, “I can only imagine that if _somebody_ would quit being so stubborn and play along tonight, you might just find a few other things that’ll shut him up!”

Hajime heaves another sigh. He looks into Tooru’s big, sparkly eyes, his perfect doll pout, and knows he’s already lost the argument. Over a decade, and he’s never once been able to say no to Tooru—why start now?

-

(Shouyou has a slightly easier time of it, flinging himself down on a flimsy bed as soon as he and Atsumu make it to their shared Olympic dorm. 

“Babe?” he calls out.

“Yes, babe?” Atsumu answers, from the bathroom.

“You down to hook up with Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa?”

Atsumu pokes his head out of the bathroom, eyebrows high, jawline partially coated in shaving cream. “Sorry, I must’ve misheard. What’d ya say?”

“I said,” Shouyou enunciates clearly, “are you down, to hook up, with Iwaizumi-san, and, Oikawa.”

Atsumu gapes briefly, which Shouyou misinterprets as hesitation. He stammers to explain: “Um, so, Oikawa-san and I have been texting about it _for ages_ , as soon as we knew we’d all be here, and they’re like, _swingers_ or whatever, like, the real—”

“Hell yeah,” Atsumu cuts him off. “ _Fuck_ yeah. When are we doing it?”

Shouyou grins at him guiltily. “How do you feel about… tonight?”)

-

“It’ll be fun,” Tooru smooches into Hajime’s ear before they knock on the door to Shouyou and Atsumu’s dorm room. “And if it’s not… then we can just go back to your room, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” Hajime warns gently. “Because you’re the worst. I can’t believe you and Hinata have been plotting and fantasizing about this for—how long again?”

Tooru raps his knuckles against the door, then casually surveys his nails, avoiding Hajime’s stare. “...A while…?”

Before Hajime can interrogate him any further, the door swings open to reveal Shouyou and Atsumu, both barefoot and freshly-showered, looking like cats that ate canaries. 

“Hiiii,” Shouyou croons at Tooru, throwing his arms around his neck as soon as they close the door behind them. “Chibi-chan!” Tooru sing-songs back, giving him a big wet kiss on each cheek.

“Miya,” Hajime greets, trying to decide between offering a handshake, a fistbump—or should he be going in for a hug or something? Tooru’s no fucking help, he’s already holding Shouyou’s hands.

“Iwa-san,” Atsumu nods, pitching his voice down like he’s not excited, either. He makes the choice easy, offering a handshake into a back-slapping bro-hug.

The room is plain—just as boring as Hajime’s, only with two low cardboard beds instead of his own single—but tidy. Both beds are made. He finds himself idly wondering whether it would be easy to shove them together before remembering that he’s not supposed to be enthusiastic, since he’s still testy about Tooru being a conniving little prick.

“So, uh,” Atsumu scratches the back of his neck. “Do you guys… want… anything to drink?” 

_Oh Christ_ _,_ Hajime thinks. _He’s never actually done something like this before, has he_ _._ He and Tooru exchange a pair of secret smiles. He’s pretty sure he’s personally overheard these two lovesick idiots try to proposition every player on the national team, but standing here in their room, watching Miya Atsumu sweat while Shouyou clings to Tooru’s arm, he’s increasingly confident they’re dealing with newbies.

“Sure,” he says. “What’ve you got?”

-

Half a bottle of tequila and several energetic volleyball recaps later, they’re all four lounging on one narrow bed—Hajime alongside Shouyou and Atsumu, Tooru sprawled cheerfully across their laps. He’s playing with Atsumu’s fingers and grinning up into Shouyou’s face... while Hajime’s stuck with his legs. 

He can’t help but tease him. “Are you happy, _mi amor_ _?_ My little _Totito_ _?_ ” He taunts Tooru’s good knee with a hard, ticklish squeeze to watch him kick and squirm. “Are you just exactly where you want to be tonight?” 

Hajime knows there’s a little bite to his voice, a rough edge the tequila hasn’t quite smoothed out. It’s been a long time since they’ve last been in this situation, and even when they were in practice, he still always took a little longer than Tooru to get comfortable.

“Mmhmm,” Tooru purrs back, narrowing his eyes at Hajime, reading him. He trusts Tooru to sort things out for both of them, like he always has—to give him time to settle in and get with the program. Worst case scenario, even if he never really gets into it, he still gets to watch his fiancé get double-teamed by Olympic athletes. Not a bad way to spend an evening. 

“But I’d be a lot happier if we weren’t all wearing so many clothes,” Tooru continues, “and if somebody would fucking _kiss me_ already.”

“Shou,” Atsumu drawls, “that sounds like your cue.” He brings Tooru’s hands up to his face, gives them a loud smooch, and starts to extricate himself.

“Wait, where are you going?” Shouyou whines. 

“Am I the only one who’s listening around here? _I’m_ tryna take my clothes off!” 

Tooru rolls off of them agreeably, and three shirts come off. Shouyou lets out a low whistle, beckoning Tooru to come back to his lap as he wriggles out of his pants. “C’mere,” Shouyou murmurs, reaching to cup Tooru’s face as he straddles Shouyou’s lap, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Atsumu hovers, shooting Hajime a questioning glance before circling to press himself against Shouyou’s other side. He kisses up Shouyou’s shoulder, twining his fingers into Tooru’s hair. 

“Is he... okay?” Atsumu wonders softly, like Hajime’s not three feet away, debating whether he can get away with checking his phone, or going out for some air, or whether he’s ready to throw himself into the fray to get his dick sucked.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Tooru sniffs. “Iwa-chan’s just pouting because we didn’t think to mail him a formal save-the-date to our little orgy!” He smooshes his cheek against Shouyou’s, making kissy noises at Hajime, who rolls his eyes. 

“The trick, ’Tsumu-chan, is to show him how much fun we’re all having…” Tooru trails off, reaching for Atsumu and dragging him close for a slow, lingering kiss over Shouyou’s shoulder, “...and how good we could be making him feel…” he closes his teeth lightly on Atsumu’s bottom lip, biting until he earns a hiss, “...if he’d just _let us_ _._ ”

“Really?” Atsumu breathes against his lips, as Shouyou mouths at Tooru’s collarbone, sucking little marks as he goes. 

“Mmhmm,” Tooru hums, meeting Hajime’s eyes as he idly rolls his hips against Shouyou’s. Shouyou lets out a groan, turning his head to catch Atsumu’s mouth, coaxing it open to suck on his tongue. Tooru licks his lips without breaking eye contact, running his fingertips down Shouyou’s side to dip into the waistband of his athletic sponsorship boxer briefs. 

Any sound Shouyou makes is immediately lost inside Atsumu’s kiss. Hajime can see the goosebumps rising on Shouyou’s skin at Tooru’s touch. He’s starting to feel a familiar ache, that directionless hunger that bubbles up inside him at being able to do this, of wanting to sample—to taste—to try some of everything. 

Has Tooru seen it yet? His first waver? Hajime stares him down as Tooru reaches for Atsumu’s jawline, pulling him gently away from Shouyou. He presses a peck to the corner of Atsumu’s mouth, then his cheek, then his ear, where he whispers something so soft Hajime can’t hear it, even as close as he’s been this whole time. 

Atsumu runs a hand through Tooru’s hair, flashing him a smile, and dips to kiss Shouyou one more time before rolling himself up to standing and sauntering all three steps to Hajime. 

“Miya-kun,” Hajime nods, straightening up and offering Atsumu his hand like he’s asking him to dance. “Let’s give them this bed for a while, shall we?” They watch for a moment as their partners slowly collapse to horizontal, legs tangling and lips locked hungrily together. “I think they have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Looks like it,” Atsumu says. Then his breath catches when Hajime shoves him, not unkindly, onto the other bed. 

Hajime can’t help but feel a little thrill at the way Atsumu is looking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted. Hajime knows he, himself, is attractive—he hears how the team (gay, straight or otherwise) all tease one another about having a crush on him—Atsumu chief among them, despite his near-nauseating love for Shouyou. 

Hajime’s seen this look (shocked in a good way? suddenly, unexpectedly horny?) flicker across Atsumu’s face before—whenever he uses his body weight to push him that last little bit deeper into a stretch, for instance, or on those rare occasions he decides to hit him with a cheeky wink or a raunchy joke, just to make him blush. Atsumu’s an irrepressible flirt, but he never seems to expect anybody to _flirt back_ _._

He joins Atsumu on the bed, angling his shoulders toward him, leaning in. Hajime crooks a finger under Atsumu’s chin, guiding his face close. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Atsumu breathes back, eyes fluttering closed as Hajime presses their mouths together for the first time.

They kiss, for a while; Hajime feels him out, trying to guess at what kind of a lay he’ll be—how eager he is to chase, how willing he is to yield. As fierce as he may be on the court, here, in this room, Atsumu’s enthusiastic, easy, down for whatever. When he hears a certain breathy whine from Tooru, Hajime pulls back, breaking the chain of spit that connects their lips, and a low groan winds its way up from Atsumu’s chest at the sudden distance.

“Shh.” Hajime presses his fingertips to Atsumu’s mouth, jerking his head toward the others. “Watch.”

They look just in time to catch the first orgasm of the night—Tooru rabbiting his hips frantically as he humps Shouyou’s well-muscled thigh, Shouyou’s hand disappearing into the back of the expensive, low-cut briefs Hajime knows he’ll bitch about having to hand wash tomorrow. 

A moment later, Tooru flicks damp bangs out of his eyes as he catches his breath. “Enjoying the show, my love?” he asks Hajime. “Don’t worry, we’re just warming up a little.”

-

When Shouyou stands to clean off (and stretch out his hip flexors, after a rambunctious dry-hump) Tooru folds Hajime infuriatingly into his loving arms.

“Have you finally arrived at the party, Iwa-chan, fashionably late as always?” Tooru’s breath is warm and close against his ear, and his voice gives Hajime chills despite himself. “Are you ready to let us be nice to you yet?”

“Oh, shut up, Shittykawa,” he says mildly, tipping his head back for a kiss. “I guess we may as well see what you three can do, hm?”

“Let’s,” Tooru agrees, immediately reaching to tweak his nipples because he’s a brat. Luckily Hajime knows better than to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. 

Tooru and Atsumu work together to peel Hajime’s shirt off over his head. He closes his eyes to focus on the contrasting sensations of their hands—Atsumu’s touch is reverent but almost greedy, like he can’t seem to get enough; Tooru’s is familiar, fond, like he knows the terrain and has all the time in the world. Like he’s right at home. 

Shouyou’s hands are somewhere else entirely. 

He’s kneeling, sliding his hands up Hajime’s calves, dipping fingertips into the sensitive backs of his knees, slipping up the backs of his thighs until the surface of the bed stops his progress... and before he’s even made the conscious decision to do so, Hajime’s lifting his hips to let Shouyou’s hands creep higher, grab hold of his shorts and underwear and drag them both down—past his ass, over his growing erection and away. 

And all of a sudden, somehow he’s gone from the one with all his clothes still on, coolly observing from a casual distance, to the first to be totally naked, cradled intimately against Tooru’s chest, with Hinata gazing up at him from his place on the floor between his legs and Atsumu’s careful hands exploring the hard planes of his torso, the cut of his hipbones.

He can hear Tooru and Atsumu making out around him, pressing close above him, and when Tooru indulges Atsumu’s attempt to kiss both of them at the same time, he even humors them, just because he’s feeling generous. (It’s usually sillier than it is sexy, but first-timers always seem to want to give it a shot.)

“Had to try it,” Atsumu chuckles, right on cue.

Hajime allows himself to watch as Shouyou wraps an eager fist around his dick, expertly jerking him the rest of the way to full-mast while Atsumu nips and sucks along his jaw and down his neck. He lets out a sharp breath at the first touch of Shouyou’s scalding mouth, and sinks back into Tooru’s arms. 

Once he finally feels himself relax, it’s easy for Hajime to get lost—in all of them, in fingers, mouths, skin. To get swept up. He clutches Shouyou’s hand like a lifeline, awash with pleasure; Hajime burns at the sight of Shouyou fighting his own gag reflex around his straining cock. 

It feels good to surrender completely, to give up on keeping track of whose hands are where, whose tongue is sneaking behind his teeth, and whether he should be trying to hold out until he can fuck somebody properly before he lets himself go. He squeezes Shouyou’s hand when he gets close—a half-remembered courtesy—and when the response is a return-squeeze as Shouyou swallows him even deeper, he comes down his throat with no remorse. 

-

When Hajime opens his eyes, he barely has time to catch a glimpse of Atsumu licking into Shouyou’s mouth before Tooru is tugging him backward to lie on the bed. 

“Feeling better?” Tooru murmurs, nosing into Hajime’s ear; he climbs half on top of him, nuzzling into his neck, the hard heat of his renewed erection digging into Hajime’s hip. 

“I am, yeah,” Hajime allows quietly, with a wry smile. “Thank you.”

“About damn time,” Tooru preens, and beckons the others closer as they slip off the last remaining underclothes. 

There’s no chance of all four of them fitting on one narrow single bed, no matter how hard they spoon, and Tooru spends one comical instant desperately trying to save Atsumu from falling off entirely before feral nightmare Shouyou dives on top of them to send Atsumu tumbling straight to the floor before scrambling shamelessly into place behind Hajime. 

Opting to ignore the naked horseplay, Hajime focuses on tonguing the back of Tooru’s neck, tracing his hand up and down his front—where he assumes Atsumu will be watching. He skims his fingertips up the underside of Tooru’s cock, making him whine, before letting his arm hang over, fingers dangling, fishing.

Atsumu takes the bait. He leans up from his place on the floor to suck Hajime’s fingers into the searing wet heat of his unseen mouth, one by one, as Hajime keeps his face pressed into Tooru’s soft hair, with its sweet scent of foreign shampoo. And all the while, Shouyou’s cool, callused hand caresses the ridges and hollows of his ribs, in soothing contrast to his sharp mouth against Hajime’s shoulderblades and hard dick nestled close and expectant against his ass.

Hajime always gets a kick out of these little between-moments in the middle of things—forgettable lulls in the action, when teeth and tongues and lazily rolling hips keep the fire stoked just hot enough to let them revel in skin as they catch their breath between embarrassing flirts and jackhammer hips. The sex itself only varies so much between the friends they bring into their bed, but this part—the charged anticipation, this strange temporary intimacy—is always something diffferent.

“We should rearrange,” Tooru murmurs after a moment, gently pulling Hajime’s hand away from Atsumu, leaving his wet fingers naked and cold in the air even as warmth envelops him from all sides. “I imagine some of us might like to try out a slightly different position, wouldn’t we, Atsumu-chan?” 

Atsumu clears his throat as he abruptly sits up, called out for being distracted enough by the chance to fellate Hajime’s fingers not to get up off the floor. “I’m just happy to be here,” Atsumu grins, wiping shiny, swollen lips against the back of his hand.

“Mm. Me too!” Shouyou chirps, dropping his chin briefly over Hajime’s shoulder, “...but, ’Tsumu, I bet I know how we can make _you_ even happier...” 

-

“Bend over!” Shouyou says, and cheerfully smacks Atsumu on the ass. 

Atsumu complies immediately, without question, and Hajime shoots Tooru a meaningful look. 

“Did you _see_ how—” 

“Yes, _Hajime_ _,_ I saw how well he listens,” Tooru interrupts, reaching around to give Atsumu a light spank of his own. He rolls onto his back on the bed, wriggling in just close enough to pull Atsumu’s embarrassed face down toward his crotch. (He takes the hint.)

Hajime stands to join Shouyou where he’s idly stroking Atsumu’s backside and tangles their fingers together against Atsumu’s skin. 

His other hand he brings to the back of Shouyou’s neck, ducking down to finally steal a proper kiss—maybe two—face to face. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind taking a little more time to savor the opportunity to make out with Hinata Shouyou, but at this particular moment, there’s something else that needs to be done.

“Can I?” Hajime asks, jutting his chin toward the place their hands are connected, squeezing the round swell of Atsumu’s ass. 

Shouyou grins. “Hear that, babe? Fuckin’ told ya, didn’t I.” 

“You—shut up—yes—please,” Atsumu mumbles around Tooru’s dick. 

“He didn’t want to get his hopes up, is all,” Shouyou says by way of explanation, skimming his hand across Hajime’s back as he crosses behind him to get closer to Tooru, who disengages from Atsumu to splay himself out beneath Shouyou instead. 

“Shouyou,” Tooru purrs, hiking a knee toward his chest, showing off his fresh wax-job. “I’m thinking you should fuck me. What do you think?”

Hajime snorts, doing his best to disguise it in the sound of a large amount of lube squirting into his hand, as Shouyou says, breathlessly, “I think so, too.” He holds his own hand out, and rather than trying to guess how much he wants, Hajime courteously hands the entire bottle over.

Hajime doesn’t bother to warm the lube up, just drizzles the whole cold, wet handful down into Atsumu’s crack to hear the tight breath he sucks in at the sensation. Hajime does his best to catch the runny lube before it leaks down _too_ far, before it trickles all the way down Atsumu’s (neatly but not _excessively_ -groomed) sack and drips off the tip of his drooling cock to stain the bedsheets between his knees. He likes to use a lot (or, as Tooru would say, _ugh, too much, Iwa-chan!_ )—likes it better sloppy—but he doesn’t like to waste, either, so he rubs it all in, slipping the loose circle of his fingers up and down around Atsumu’s cock—just until Atsumu starts trying to thrust into his hand, which is exactly when he lets go. 

“I-Iwa—Iwaizumi-san—” Atsumu whimpers, and Hajime shushes him, massaging his (probably unbearably blue) balls with his dry hand and bringing the other to drag from the base of his spine down to slide slick fingers over his needy entrance.

When the breathy moans beside them spike into a keen, he glances over to see that Tooru’s nowhere near so patient: Shoyou is down on his knees with Tooru pulled all the way to the edge of the bed, long legs draped over Shouyou’s shoulders as he buries his face into Tooru’s smooth, perfect ass, peeling him open like a book. 

Good for them, Hajime thinks, rubbing the flat of his thumb in mean little circles against Atsumu’s twitching rim, enjoying the filthy way the wet sounds of Shouyou’s suckling commingles with Tooru’s pretty wails and Atsumu’s rough panting. When he spreads Atsumu’s ass open wider, pushing past the conflicted muscles of his hole to finally dip that first hot fingertip inside him, Atsumu chokes out a noise like a sob.

Suddenly impatient, no longer seeing the point of teasing, Hajime re-ups the slickness of his longest fingers and gets down to business. He can’t help but notice Shouyou’s doing likewise, two fingers of his own plunging deeply into Tooru, whom he has basically folded in half. Tooru’s face is red from the inversion, eyes screwed shut as he huffs around the way Shouyou’s fingers wiggle and part inside him—just like he’d described when he gleefully confessed their first hookup in Rio. 

Tooru would hate the sight of himself like this, unglamorous and obscene, but Hajime loves to see it; loves it all the more when he gets the privilege of seeing how Tooru looks when it’s somebody else pulling him apart. 

Has Shouyou been peeking over at them, too? Does he feels the same way, seeing Atsumu like this? Whatever Atsumu’s face looks like now, he’s hidden it in his arms as he rocks his hips back into Hajime’s hands, but the hungry arch of his back as he fucks himself wide open on Hajime’s fingers is enough to make up for it. 

“I’m—I, Iwa-san—I’m good to go,” he attempts, pressing up from his elbows so he’s not speaking straight into the mattress. “Please, Iwa—Iwaizumi—”

“Hajime,” Hajime offers impulsively. He’ll regret the permission in the next week, but right now…

“H-Hajime,” Atsumu echoes, equal parts whiny and awed. 

“Yeah,” Hajime soothes, wiping his messy hand off on Atsumu’s thigh and grabbing one of the literal dozens of Olympic-branded condoms strewn around Shouyou and Atsumu’s room for easy access. As he rolls it on, he watches Shouyou, already wrapped, manhandling Tooru into bending over the far end of the bed. 

“Hey,” Tooru whispers with a fucked-out little smile, blowing Hajime an air kiss.

“Hey, yourself, pretty boy,” Hajime says, catching the bottle of lube Shouyou tosses back to him. “You look good like that.” 

“Always do, don’t I?”

Shouyou smirks at Hajime as they both slick up their brightly colored Olympic condoms. “You do too, babe,” he informs Atsumu seriously. (“Thanks, babe,” Atsumu mumbles back, still facedown.)

Shouyou lines himself up against Tooru’s ready entrance like he’s had practice; Tooru’s flushed face, almost nose-to-nose with Atsumu's, tells them exactly when he breaks through.

“C’mere,” Hajime says into Atsumu’s ear, sitting down on the bed and pulling Atsumu into his lap, where he leans forward and reaches behind himself to take Hajime’s cock in his hand like he’s just been waiting for permission to do so all night. 

Since Atsumu’s so damn eager, Hajime lets him do the work… just holds him open to watch as Atsumu’s still-tight muscles tense and then relax to take him in. Atsumu’s impatient—his thighs tremble with the effort of trying to sink down slowly as he struggles not to rush. 

Shouyou slows the rhythm of his hips against Tooru’s as he watches, pausing entirely just in time to see Atsumu bottom out with a mangled sigh.

When Hajime scoops under his shoulders to pull Atsumu back against him, Shouyou’s mouth falls open entirely. It kinda makes Hajime wish he could see the look on Atsumu’s face, makes him wonder whether it looks like anything like Tooru’s did the first time they locked eyes across a bed like this, when they were seventeen and too dumb to know how lucky they were, and... well. Looking like that, there’s no way Shouyou isn’t feeling the same thing. 

Tooru, though—he’s already over Shouyou’s special moment of watching his boyfriend get fucked. He whines, wriggling back against Shouyou to get him started up again. Shouyou leaves his eyes trained all the while on Atsumu, who’s now using Hajime’s shoulder for leverage as he bounces hard on his dick, thick thighs lifting him just high enough to slam back down when Hajime digs bruising fingers into his hipbones. 

When his legs begin to shake and falter from the effort, Hajime forces Atsumu’s hips to slow, grinding harder and deeper up into him instead. As he reaches around to try to jack him off, Atsumu catches him off guard by pushing his hand away. 

“No?” Hajime translates, redirecting his hand to rub Atsumu’s thigh in confusion. “Why, can you come just from this, or…?”

“Nah, not—like this—” Atsumu shakes his head, squeezing his grip on Hajime’s shoulder. “But I still wanna...” he pants, pausing to groan as Hajime’s cock touches someplace especially good inside him. He reaches out toward Tooru, who’s babbling pieces of Shouyou’s name, among other things, and almost—but not quite—close enough to touch. Ah.

“All together,” Hajime murmurs. Atsumu nods, wordless. Hajime helps him unfold his legs and holds onto the base of the stupid Olympic condom as he pulls out, making Atsumu hiss.

“Oh, is it time to change places?” Shouyou guesses with a smirk as Tooru pulls his face out of his puddle of drool to look up, too. “I wouldn’t mind taking a turn with Iwa-san, if we’re switching it up...” 

Tooru lets out an offended squawk and does something imperceptible that makes Shouyou wince, as he, too, pulls out. “Ooh—or,” Tooru muses, “speaking of switching…”

-

In the end, they do have to shove the beds together, but it’s worth it. 

Since Atsumu’s already loose and easy and Tooru is _“_ _perfectly vers when I want to be,_ Hajime!”, they get started first. And because Shouyou’s the one with the catching up to do, they even have the time to frot and play by themselves, long limbs tangled slick and sweaty and laughing before Tooru rolls on an Olympic condom of his own. He spoons his body against Atsumu’s, mouthing between his neck and shoulders, and sinks his cock straight back into the same place Hajime’s had been only moments before. 

Shouyou, meanwhile, melts like butter under Hajime’s practiced touch, whispering little _yeahs_ and _ohs_ as he jerks himself off with his eyes closed, greedily stretching open around Hajime’s fingers. It doesn’t take him long to get on the same page as the others. 

As soon as he’s ready, Shouyou curls up behind Tooru, slipping his hand between them to line himself up again. He reaches across to hold onto Atsumu’s bicep as he drives all the way back inside Tooru in one smooth stroke, coaxing twin gasps from both of them.

 _“...oh,”_ Tooru giggles, breathless and absurd. 

“Oh?” Shouyou repeats, touching the places each of their bodies come together like he doesn’t believe it’s real, slipping his hand down Tooru’s front until he finds where his cock disappears into Atsumu. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever actually… done it quite like this.”

Hajime seals himself close against Shouyou’s back, reaching across him to lightly slap at Tooru’s hip. “We have too! Remember? It was a couple years ago with Kuroo and—”

Tooru interrupts: “No, no, you’re thinking of that first time we tried that DP, god, that was—” 

“Wait,” Shouyou demands at the same time, “Kuroo and who?” 

“OH—oh, my bad, you’re right!” 

_“_ _Tch_ _._ Of _course_ I am. _”_

Even as he bickers with Tooru, Hajime’s hand is busy finding its way to Shouyou’s ass, squeezing into the meat of it before taking hold of his cock (sporting yet another fresh Olympic condom) and teasing the head against Shouyou’s rim.

Shouyou tries one more time (“Kuroo and—”) but his question falls off into a low moan as Hajime shoves his way in, the last piece of the puzzle, setting off a chain reaction of hip jerks and stuttery breaths as they cling to one another, blindly groping for handholds and thrusting in tandem. 

From the motion and angle of their arms, Hajime can guess that both Shouyou and Tooru are hard at work on Atsumu, pulling on his nipples and yanking on his dick, making him whimper and squirm at the front of the line. Atsumu’s frantic movements ricochet back and forth between all of their bodies, multiply through each of them, and Hajime tries not to get overwhelmed.

He focuses on the sensations—the feeling of Shouyou fucking back against him, grinding and moaning, the taste of the sweat from his hair (hair like the one stuck in Hajime’s throat but he doesn’t even care, he’ll swallow it if he has to; he’s swallowed worse…) and someone’s legs have captured his—theirs—all eight of their shins and ankles interlocked, feet flexing.

And he’s drowning in it, all his wires crossing until he’s not sure whose heartbeat he’s tasting or whose skin he can hear his fingernails digging into, but when Shouyou groans, gorgeous, reaching back to grab at his face, his neck, anything he can reach, Hajime’s heart skips. 

And when he hears Atsumu’s low voice gasp out a “fuck, oh, _fuck_ _,_ ” he teeters on the brink of something he didn’t quite realize he was approaching. 

And finally, when Tooru cries out, long and sweet and familiar, he breathes them all in and tips over the edge.

-

(“Iwa-chan! Ugh, _Iwa-chan_ _._ ”

“Hush, leave ’em, they’re adorable like that. Don’t ya just wanna take a picture and keep it in yer wallet?”)

-

The first thing Hajime says when he wakes up from his doze a little while later is “shut up ’m not asleep!”

Tooru, Atsumu and Shouyou aren’t paying any attention to him, anyway. They’re snuggled up together, still naked, snapping lewd selfies and watching clips of something on Shouyou’s phone. 

“Oh, how nice of you to join us again,” Tooru says with a smile, jabbing Hajime with his foot. 

“Ow, cut that out. What time is it?”

The three exchange a look. “Late,” Atsumu admits. 

“Time for us to sneak back to your room and crash while we can,” Tooru says, brushing a dry kiss first against Shouyou’s temple, and then Atsumu’s. 

“This was—” Shouyou pauses to yawn like a big cat— “actually a lot of fun. Even more than I thought it would be.” He winks at Tooru, who scrunches his nose in reply. 

Atsumu nods, yawning too. “Thank you guys so much. Maybe, ya know... Maybe we could even do it again sometime, who knows.” 

“I’d like that,” Tooru says, as Atsumu’s mouth quirks into a hopeful grin.

“I would, too.” Hajime pauses for a long moment, and then sighs. “Honestly, I kinda… don’t even want tonight to be over yet.”

Tooru snorts, earning himself a sharp look, as Shouyou asks, earnest, “Does it have to be?” 

They already have the beds pushed together. It’s not like Hajime’s room is any fancier than theirs, and the Argentinian teammate who’s Tooru’s Olympic roommate—while a perfectly wonderful guy—is still a roommate.

Hajime shuts his eyes, lying back down and opening up his arms. He feels Tooru and Atsumu curl up against his either side, both their heads pillowed on his chest, two pretty shampoo scents to breathe in. Shouyou hits the light and nestles in alongside Atsumu a moment later, and a cozy feeling suffuses the room, pleasant despite a few wet spots and the sticky, unfresh air. 

One of them snores. Somebody else has restless legs. Even with his eyes closed, Hajime recognizes the sleepy kisses Tooru brushes against his chest. 

Tonight, he’s right where he wants to be.


End file.
